Coasting Off Other's Fame vs Coming Up With Your Own Shit

To say that Pride and Prejudice is my favorite book sounds cliche now, but much as I was a Masterpiece Classics fan circa twenty years before Downton was ever an Abbey, I have been in love with the Miss Bennets, Lizzy in particular, since the tender age of ten. This affection absolutely predates the present phenomena of books, movies and general Austen spinoffs that seem to force the point, namely that Pride and Prejudice is perhaps the world's most perfect story.

Generally speaking, I don't like it. It makes me feel less authentic in my praise; I've actually resisted the urge to join in a rapturous conversation about the many glowing aspects of P&P simply because I didn't want to sound like those other girls (it's always a group of girls, single, drinking, making wild assumptions about who their Mr. Darcy might be - barf). I bet not a one of them could pick Collin Firth out of a lineup if their life depended on it.

There is only ONE Mr. Darcy

As sacred as I hold this thing, you'd think that I would be furious at the idea of anyone touching it in a way that would alter the original text. And I am, just totally opposed to the whole idea. Then this happened:

Seth Grahame-Smith, I...love you?

Here's what's brilliant about this: reading it, there was just this strong feeling that here was a guy who really loved this book, this story, and felt like he could make something fresh and new and hilarious for those of us who have read it a hundred times already. It was a gift; a way to enjoy the old tale with a similar level of anticipation and uncertainty about it as the first time because you truly didn't really know how things would shake out. And it was funny - god, so funny. And original; who had ever though to do a mashup like this? 

In this way, I don't mind the whole grifting off other's work to make something of your own because I don't see the ill intent here; I just see someone who thought of something that would be highly entertaining and who executed it exceptionally well. Not so much with the prequels and sequels and spinoffs that so many other people have created as, what comes off as, a way to take full advantage of this new advent of Austen's fame. And then I started doing it.

I'm sitting with a group of women, drinking, defending my dismissal of romance novels on the grounds that they're so terribly written when I blurted out "now, if Jane Austen ever writes a romance novel, I'm in." Shit. There it is; take Pride and Prejudice and add in the sexy bits. It's so obvious, so easy to navigate, so...done before.

There's nothing like a quick Google search to teach you that every original idea you've ever had has been had by hundreds of others who not only beat you to the idea but also to its execution, albeit poorly. Sex has already made its way into Longbourn, Pemberley and the surrounding areas, though the reviews are dismal. Because the wrong person did it; someone who doubtless had little love of the text and little understanding of the world and the tone and the subtle snarkiness that was necessary to match the Austen style. 

So here's where I am: I want to take Pride and Prejudice and add sexy bits and innuendo as if Jane herself had done it (I'll just go ahead and apologize now for my audacity in comparing myself and my future writings to Jane Austen; please don't throw things at me). And on the other hand, I don't want to do that at all. I actually feel sick about it. It's all very confusing; I don't want to feel like I'm not good enough to come up with something wholly original, and yet the entire idea makes me giddy with delight. I mean, think about the possibilities; Whickam would be an absolute whore, just a goldmine. Mr. Collins would be into some freaky shit. Mary is your resident lesbian...

No, no no no. I hate it. No. 

But it would be so fun. 

No. Ugh.

Inside Her Llewyn Davis

After writing it out, I realize now that title sounds like it could be either a film major's favorite new metaphor for intercourse or the name of the most boring porno ever. I'm envisioning something like a dude making love to a computer while folk music plays overhead. And now I'm not envisioning anything because that's gross.

My last two trips to the theatre can be summed up in one word: Fine. I love the Coens, so if they want to make a wandering and aimless movie about a loser with a good voice for folk then fine. A movie about a guy who falls in love with an earpiece, fine. Okay, so there's more to each of those stories than just that, but fine, whatever; it's difficult to care.

I think this was my face the whole time, too

So, two things have really struck me since seeing this - first, that there are at least two people I know who loooooved this movie and second I have been singing the songs in the shower for two weeks now. How do you do that; how do you make a movie one person cares nothing for and the other person absolutely sees immense value in and leave both singing your songs? There's either something significant about that or there isn't. Actually, I could say that about anything, so you know what just forget it.

He really loves that earpiece

The week after seeing Davis I though I'd rectify my disappointment by seeing Her. Oh brother. So, first things first, I disagree with Joaquin Phoenix having a mustache. Just, in general. Also, I have to applaud these people for sacrificing coolness for a more realistic future feel (no flying cars, but check out these pants - high waisted wool trousers are the new jeans)! And yet safety pins are still the most logical solution to keeping that camera on your smartphone thing above pocket level. Hmm.

Fine. It's fine; movies like these are going to appeal to some people a lot, and for that subset of languishing melancholy-loving individuals there isn't a whole lot of movies that do that. Outside of French cinema, I mean, and who wants to read subtitles like all the time? There's still a story being told here, and that's something. Or it's not, I don't know. But if I have to walk around singing this song, then so do you, so here.

 

 

Hate Watching

This is so dumb. I just can't even explain how dumb this is; it's actually the definition of insanity. I vaguely remember the first couple seasons and being really interested in the whole idea that you can throw all these women in front of one guy and through process of elimination he should find his forever mate. Fine. Cool. I'll watch that and see how it goes, why not? Maybe this could work.

And then...

It doesn't work! What? It doesn't work? I know, I know; shocker. Oh well, I guess taking some super hot guy who for mysterious reasons can't find a date in the real world and throwing him in the middle of a group of equally hot women who also cannot seem to find a date would be the best solution to their weird dating problems. Yeah, that should work; but only if you send them on outrageously contrived and extravagant outings that these respective hot people will never again be able to recreate. And film it, obviously.

18 seasons later...

It still doesn't work? Whaaaa'? And people still sign up for this shit? And even more people still watch this? And I'm watching this? I hate this and I'm watching this. It's so dumb.

I am 100% surprised that dating 26 women at one time would be a problem.

Hate watching is a new things for me. I never understood people who would talk about a show as if it was the scourge of mankind and yet never miss an episode. And then I started doing that. And now I'm doing it with The Bachelor. Because it's so dumb. Case in point: the dog charity photo shoot, first group date.

Yup. Beside the white girl painted brown is a white girl in a 'fro.

I'm going to stop talking about this, because I'm not even clear about what this is.

There's basically only two reasons anyone would watch this thing - one, chicks crying. Two, chicks fighting. Three, chicks be crazy. Maybe four, the sliver of a chance that despite the artificial veneer something truly magical will happen and you'll pick the winner and get all that cash in the office Bachelor pool. To that end, I hereby pick my winner:

She's blonde, so...

Hand over the cash, ladies. This is too easy.

Downton!

Yeah, we got kids now.

Back back back back back! And before you lump me in with the rest of those Downton fans who didn't know Masterpiece from Master Chef, let me just say that PBS Masterpiece has been a part of my life since before I was old enough to realize no one else thought it was cool. I'm talking pre-Cumberbatch Sherlock Holmes, people. I'm talking Hercule Poirot. You get me?

 

This was MY Sherlock Holmes

So my excitement is not just the result of a populace pushing this show as the newest thing that a bunch of people can agree is fantastic, it's the culmination of a lifetime of watching and waiting for others to recognize the good work PBS and the BBC do together. And when you get A&E in the mix, then it's like a black hole of amazing talent and gloriously gorgeous Brits (I'm looking at you, Colin Firth).

Just so we're clear, on the left an absolute dream and to the right an abomination.

So, I'm glad Masterpiece is finally getting the press they deserve, but I insist there be clarity on the fact that I was part of this before things got completely out of hand. To sum up, that means I was into Sherlock before Cumberbatch, Masterpiece was my jam back when Diana Rigg introed the Mystery! portion and Pride and Prejudice will always mean Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle and six hours of the best thing television has ever done. 

Thank you.